


Golden

by pkmntrashcan



Series: Bederia Week 2021 [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, First Impressions, In which they're not friends yet, Post-Game, bederia week 2021, strong hcs about Bede's theater career in the off season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:41:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29640375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pkmntrashcan/pseuds/pkmntrashcan
Summary: Bederia Week 2021 | Day 1 | First Impressions“Motostoke.” Gloria’s voice is quiet, but steady as it interrupts him. Hazels flickering up to his from her seated position.  “We met in Motostoke.” The tiniest hint of a frustrated sigh leaving her lips, “but of course you wouldn’t remember that.”
Relationships: Beet | Bede/Yuuri | Gloria
Series: Bederia Week 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2191920
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18
Collections: Bederia Week 2021





	Golden

Bede stares down in absolute horror. Even from where he stood he could make it out in the dimly lit auditorium: the familiar brown tresses, the round glasses atop her freckled nose, the wretched pom-pom hat, and Opal’s angular fingers wrapped around her shoulder wrinkling the thick and drab cardigan he’s grown accustomed to seeing her wear.

“No. Absolutely not. We are not working together.” 

The string of words quick to leave Bede’s lips before Opal could even put ‘temporary understudy’ and ‘Gloria’ in the same sentence.

Because she of all people was never supposed to be here. This had grown to be _his_ domain. Where he held utmost prowess, where he commanded attention, and he would need to be dead before he wouldn’t let the Champion come marching in to destroy the semblance of peace he had in the local theater.

_The unassuming, timid, and absolutely ordinary Champion._

Gloria, however, shifts uncomfortably from side to side. Her bag’s buckles faintly jingling with every nervous movement she made forcing him to fight every inclination to look at her direction. But he could put two and two together rather quickly with the mischief seen in the turquoise eyes of his guardian. How this was merely a result of no one else being available and a brand new Champion all too ready to help anyone in need.

Because while Gloria was a natural on the battlefield nothing about her screamed stage presence. 

Opal had to know this.

“Success is found in the most uncomfortable of situations, is it not, Bede?”

Leave it to the old hag to pull off this scheme.

He could hear it in her hoarse voice, stern and filled with no-nonsense reminiscent to the days she directed him through her fairy bootcamp. And as much as he abhorred what she was insinuating he knew that in the end he had no choice. 

“Miss Opal, if you’d rather find someone el--”

“Nonsense, dear,” her hand patting her shoulder before letting go and beginning her shuffle towards the exit. “She’ll learn her lines well with guidance. Do well to show her a proper welcome, Bede.”

Gloria’s head follows her departure, lips parting with no sound escaping. A feeble attempt to reach out to the older woman once more, to find any way out, but Bede could see the chill run down her back. The hesitation as her gaze flickers away from the safety of the wooden doors and the thump of Opal's cane to look towards harsh violets that seemed to near threaten her.

“It seems I have no choice but to accept you as the replacement” Bede announces bitterly, glancing down at the brunette. His fingers rubbing circles on his forehead at the mere inconvenience before they beckon her to get on stage.

“No point in prolonging the inevitable,” he mutters, not even sparing her a glance as she hoists herself up onto the stage he was so proudly standing over.

“I figure this is just as much as a shock to you as it is me, especially given that you and I have not had the friendliest of terms since we met in Galar Mi--” 

“Motostoke.” Gloria’s voice is quiet, but steady as it interrupts him. Hazels flickering up to his from her seated position. “We met in Motostoke.” The tiniest hint of a frustrated sigh leaving her lips, “but of course you wouldn’t remember that.”

Bede’s eyes narrow, offended by the correction even he could barely recognize as barely true. It was a passing moment, barely able to qualify as a first meeting. However it was the one that brought her endorsement to his attention. 

But not her. 

Yet Gloria didn’t seem to budge. Her face fallen sullen. With disappointment? With disdain? Both expressions he was more used to than he’d like to express--especially to the likes of her.

“Am I that much of a nuisance to you?”

Bede exhales sharply. Eyes closing shut to gather his thoughts. There’s a lot he couldn’t pinpoint about Gloria and a lot he couldn’t put into the proper words over how she made him feel. They were rivals first and foremost. Something she seemed to accept in stride. Keeping him on his toes and getting under his skin because of her incessant need to be kind towards him. To offer a hand in friendship he never asked for nor did he want to accept. And now she was here questioning the delicate balance of their... _acquaintanceship_. 

Bede neither had the time nor patience for this.

“You,” Bede points an accusatory finger at her, “you are incredibly frustrating, do you recognize that?” Violets meeting her expression with a passion not beyond him. “Regardless, it’s trivial and truthfully my thoughts do not concern you nor this rehearsal we now have to put on.”

Gloria’s cheeks puff out lightly, but her focus refuses to move from his.

“I think matters involving your hatred of me do, especially given the feelings aren’t mutual in any way.”

And it’s at his shock that he sees her lips turn slightly upward. In amusement. 

At his expense.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off of you when we first met, Bede.” Then she laughs for a single note, feet kicking the air mindlessly. “Sure you kinda shoved us out of the way and you had an air about you. _Of haughtiness_.” 

Bede scoffs at her cheeky expression before he watches it strangely settle into something more fond.

“Yet you were also the most confident person at the opening. Poised and graceful. I approached you and you said I wasting your time.” A soft sigh echoes between them. “Funny how that same circumstance seems to apply now, huh?”

Her head tilts causing the stage lights to catch her the flecks of gold in her curious eyes. 

“If not that moment,” she pauses, “what is it you do remember about me?”

His brow furrows. 

“I don’t have to entertain your questions.”

Because the worst part was that even though she blended into the sea of hopeful trainers--she unfortunately stood out the most. Plain and simple turned into a threat. Calmness into his undoing. Shyness into a taunt. 

Her endorsement. Her name. Her undeniable talent.

Her reputation preceded her in ways he’s sure she wasn’t even aware of. And he had a front row seat to bear witness to it; to her flawless execution and tactics.

_She was strong._

Effortlessly so.

And it upset him.

It was an impression he could never forget no matter how hard he tried. Worst of all? It was never a fluke. Proving it over and over again with every challenge he demanded out of her. And now as she coaxes _him_ into her little games he realizes she’s no longer the same meek girl he overlooked a few months ago. 

She hasn’t been the same way in a while and truthfully her gentle nature never matched the gusto she had on the battlefield.

Refusing to back down. Meeting him tit for tat. 

And doing it all with a dimple ridden smile.

But Bede would be a fool to give her the pleasure of knowing this. So he cocks his head, smirk pulling at corner of his mouth. 

“I saw a frumpy farm girl,” amused in how Gloria’s responds with a dry ‘ha ha’ giving her neither the satisfaction nor the honesty she desired. But she’s standing tall this time. Walking towards him with the same confident strides she would on the pitch, tender smile, and her hand outreached to him like always. In sportsmanship, in friendship, in a truce, and in command of this situation as she slides her script out of his hold.

  
“Well it’s this frumpy farm girl you have to deal with for the next week then,” playful mischief lacing her every word, “ _oh Elite one.”_

**Author's Note:**

> It's day one of Bederia Week! 
> 
> Come find me @pkmntrashcan on twitter for all the prompts!
> 
> \--
> 
> Thank you to Kei for the idea and endless support.


End file.
